


Kites

by ExpectedBehavior



Series: Paul Stamets Makes Poor Life Choices [1]
Category: Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: Also some adult language, Canon Compliant, Choose Your Pain, Fluff and Angst, Gen, M/M, No Sex, Nothing too graphic but there’s pain stuff, Paul Stamets is too adorable for this world, ST: DSC 1x05 spoilers, Spoilers, Whump, shrooms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpectedBehavior/pseuds/ExpectedBehavior
Summary: Lieutenant Paul Stamets chooses his pain.A one-shot to flesh out what happened off-screen in engineering during episode 1x05 of Star Trek: Discovery. It was a shame to leave all that lovely whump in the wings!





	Kites

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in over 10 years, and the first I've ever shared online. I just couldn't leave Space Mushroom Baby alone. Feedback and comments are welcomed and encouraged. :)
> 
> EDIT: After a rewatch of the ep, I fixed the dialogue to match more closely.
> 
> EDIT 2: I've decided to continue these one-shots (around Stamets and his spore drive integration) as a series! Thank you to everyone who had commented and left kudos for giving me the confidence to keep writing. <3

As he stepped into Discovery's spore chamber, Lieutenant Paul Stamets was riding an endorphin high he hadn't felt in 20 years, since that time at the Academy when he'd bred a particular cross-strain of shrooms that his roommate nicknamed "Kites" (for the heights they sent you flying, of course).

"I really should have kept better notes about that particular batch..." he ruminated, his mind already beginning to parse for glimmers of memories relating to the psychedelics' creation. "Was it because I mixed the Inocybe with Philiotina, or was it the addition of the Galerina-sourced baeocystin that extended the reaction time while softening the recovery period? Maybe it was the germination conditions, I had used those new ultra-low band UV lights for incubation but I can't recall the spectrum settings I chose. Dammit, Paul, this is why you don't sample the merchandise while working..."

"Um, sir...?" Stamets whipped his head up, recognizing Cadet Tilly's voice.

"You're being picked up by the mics in the chamber and we can hear everything you're saying, but I don't think you meant for me to hear those things so maybe you shouldn't talk any more. Especially since we're about to perform an illegal human experimental trial against Acting Captain Saru's orders, and if a court martial uses the ship's audio logs as evidence I think you probably don't want your last words to include 'Dammit, Paul.'"

The words rushed out of Tilly's mouth in a torrent, as if she were afraid she wouldn't be able to get them out if she stopped to think about what she was saying and who she was saying it to. After the spill ended, she laughed nervously, looking mostly at the console instead of the lieutenant.

Stamets sighed behind the glass. She wasn't wrong. "Thank you, Cadet. Duly noted. I'll try to be more... official. Since, as you said, these could be the last moments of my life."

Tilly froze, as what she'd implied hit her. "I didn't mean-- I mean, I DID mean but I didn't think-- I DON'T think that you're going to, you know..." she trailed off, unwilling or unable to finish her sentence.

It didn't matter. The word hung in the air between them, unspoken but already conceived, already formed in each of their minds. Die. Death. Dead. This could kill him. This could be the end, of everything.

No more spore research. No more scientific breakthroughs. No more Cadet Tilly rambling at inappropriate times. No more of his own rambling about his mushrooms. No more rambling about anything and everything to Hugh. No more Hugh bringing him coffee when he's working late in the engineering bay. No more nighttime rituals of brushing teeth and catching up on the day's activities. No more dear doctor. No more Hugh. No more...

Stamets shook his head abruptly. _No. Get your head in the game, Paul. This isn't graduate school. You don't get partial credit if you get it half-right, and there are no extra points for "creative answers." Distractions really will get you killed, so shut them out. Shut HIM out._ He took a deep breath, then looked up at Tilly again.

"Ready, Cadet?"

She bit her lip, avoiding his gaze. "Yes sir. The chamber is ready for spore drive activation."

He squared his shoulders. "Seal the chamber, Cadet." Tilly paused a moment, then nodded. The console beeped as her fingers flew over it, and seconds later the door to the spore chamber slid closed with a small whoosh.

As the pressure inside the chamber equalized, Stamets looked around. _I really should have put a chair or something in here,_ he thought wryly. _But I never did have the forethought to think of comfort over function._ Before he could further berate himself, Commander Saru's voice boomed over the ship's speakers.

"Lieutenant Stamets, have you revived the Tardigrade?"

A breath in. _This is your last chance to back out, Paul,_ a small voice whispered.

A breath out. _It's just an animal, one more jump won't kill it. Let it do what it's made to do._

A breath in. _What is its life when measured against what you're accomplishing? What you **could** accomplish?_

A hitch. _Save yourself. Who cares about **it** , anyway?_

Silence, a seeming eternity. Then, a breath out. "Hugh. Hugh cares. And I'll be damned if I let him down."

Tilly looked up at the sound from the chamber's recording equipment just in time to see the astromycologist bring the hypospray to his neck and activate it. The hiss of the actuator was too soft to be picked up by the mics, but she saw his body flinch slightly then relax. Stamets nodded to Tilly to open comms from the chamber.

"We are able to jump, Commander," the lieutenant spoke clearly into the communications pickup. _Let there be no doubt as to my choice of words when those audio records are reviewed later,_ he thought.

He heard Commander Saru give the order: **_Black Alert!_** Tilly looked at him again, unsure of herself now that the moment had actually arrived. Stamets nodded to her.

"Now, Cadet."

The console beeped. The coordinate calibration machinery in the chamber whirred. The metal probes raised into position on either side of his rib cage.

Another breath. _Hard part's over now, Paul. Time to go along with the trip. Good or bad, you've flown before. You know you'll probably come out the other side mostly unscathed. Probably._

Four identical and excruciating jolts of pain ripped through his sides as the probes sunk into his flesh. Instinctively, his knees buckled and his body fell forward, his hands grasping at the glass in an attempt to keep his weight from being supported solely by the needles. His right hand slid down the chamber's walls, scrabbling to get some kind of purchase.

_Shit. SHIT. FUCK, THIS IS BAD._

Through eyes blurred with pain, Stamets saw Tilly stumble away from the console toward the chamber, but the ship was going to jump mode and he knew she couldn't do anything to stop what was happening.

He reached out towards her in a futile attempt to wave her back, then the machinery locked into final position, wrenching his body upright, and he screamed for what felt like days. _It didn't work. The human body isn't meant to do this. It didn't work. It didn't work and I'm dying. I'm sorry, Hugh, I'm so sorry..._

And then he saw the network stretched out before him, like an antique highway map in one of Earth's old transportation museums. It glowed. It called to him. Stamets heard himself calling back. He saw himself glowing with it. His screams stopped, or he stopped being on the same plane of existence as his convulsing corporeal form -- it didn't matter which. He saw where he needed to be, where he wanted to be, and he reached out towards that point of light, pulling himself and the ship he was linked with towards it...

His last thought, as time stretched and his body dissolved, was tinged with just a touch of remorse. _If I survive this, Hugh is going to kill me._

Then his mind became a starfield.

 


End file.
